A constant identity crisis

pantryillustrated

I am a ‘modern woman’ stuck in the 1800’s. Do any of you feel that way too? I want to dress like, Tasha Tudor. I do from time to time but I never do it when I’m leaving the house. I am fed up with our fast paced world. I want simple and quiet. I want the life, Tasha Tudor and my grandmother had.

Technically, although she grew up in the Edwardian era, my grandmother was Victorian. She was born just toward the end of the Victorian era. We are not, however, from England. We are Germans from Russia. To make a long story not so long, my great-grandparents settled in Wyoming on the prairie. Grandmother never learned to speak English and was frustrated that her grandchildren could not speak German.

I am an American through and through.

I feel fortunate that I grew up with the grandmother that I had. She lived in a small town. When her first husband died in his welding shop from a heart attack, she eventually met, dated, and married man who was Wesleyan. We all found this to be very entertaining because grandma had never been particularly religious prior to meeting, and falling deeply in love with Harold.

Harold was a no-nonsense rancher. Overalls, straw hat, tractors and barn cats. Every morning he ate cottage cheese with Karo syrup poured liberally over the top. He had not an ounce of fat on his body.

They would put their table and cooking scraps in an old coffee can that sat on the kitchen sink, and then feed it to the chickens. My grandmother had a kitchen garden and the biggest rhubarb plant you have ever seen. In her freezer was kept packages of frozen meat from the cow they took form the herd every year for their own consumption. Each packet was marked with what sort of cut of meat it contained and the cow’s name. I’ll never forget the time I looked in the freezer and saw packages with, ‘Daisy’ written on the side.

My grandmother crocheted. She made her own butter. She grew her own food. They lived out in the middle of nowhere on the plains of Wyoming.

I miss that life. I want to try and recreate that life as much as possible even though I do not live in the country on my own multi-parcel of land. Herein lies my identity crisis. I live in the suburbs in a fully electrified house with running water. I am thankful for it all. I would not want to go running out into a snow storm to use the outhouse. Also I have written so much in the past about food and exercise I need a break form it. Also… I am not fit. I wrote about these things not to show off how buff I could get but to show what I have done as part of my healing journey. I am plump like my grandmother and tall like my grandfather.

I am tired of writing about certain things. I desire to write about different things. To those not interested I apologize. My blog is about to shift in a major way. I want to bring back this old fashioned sort of living. So much has been, and continues to be, forgotten. I want to live like, Tasha Tudor lived and from the response yesterday’s post received… I am not alone.

Who wants to come with me? Who wants to live a more simple life? A quiet life? A life where we do more for ourselves?

It is fall where I live. This means the growing season is over. Planting and gardening will have to wait until next year. Whatever we can and, ‘put up’ will need to come from the store or from those with surplus. Also, it’s time to clean out the pantry and to make due with what we find.

That will be tomorrow’s post. I hope you will join me. Bring your cat, your corgi (if you have one), a cup of tea and we will go on this adventure of rediscovering that ways of the past together.

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